


Gloves And Bandages

by cloudfactories



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, M/M, New Year's Kiss, New York City, Strangers to Lovers, The Guy Next Door, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudfactories/pseuds/cloudfactories
Summary: someone with burned fingers and the other shivering in worn-out gloves. seriously, would either one of them think their soulmates (whom they have been looking for all their life) was just next door?
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Gloves And Bandages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dochiwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dochiwrites/gifts).



> +something i wrote on a whim. although, I had been meaning to write something dotae in order to gift dochiwrites for the wonderful works she had been gifting us all year. this is a confession. I'm in love. WITH ALL OF HER WORK!! she made half of my year with such beautiful works and inspired me so much.  
> -not beta-ed fully, since i wanted to gift it before the new year.  
> -dear bee(🐝), hope you like it!

“Hi.” Doyoung smiled, stretching his hand over the counter with a note, “The regular please?”

“Yes.” The barista winked, “Comin’ right up”

Doyoung pretended to not notice the wink, and heaved a sigh under his lips. It had been chilly, as the snow piled outside on the windshields. Winters were not rough as before, at least there in New York. Or it seemed like so, once he would set a step inside the coffee shop, and the heat from the installed heaters would almost take the mind off the riddling thoughts. His gloves stayed coiled and bunched up around his pockets, as he reached inside with his hands to keep himself warm. The barista came up in a jiffy with the warm, scalding espresso, and slid off the counter. The presence of the coffee reminded it was still an ordinary, mundane and not to say, another boring day on the cue. 

When he washed up outside, the coffee kept warm with the help of his gloves, he weaved his way through the throngs of normal civilians, each having their own hustle and bustle of their dilly-dallying life. Doyoung was the like, except there was nothing waiting for him on the other side. No where to attend to. No job to be swamped in, or to rake your brain with. All he was doing was returning to his shabby, quaint apartment, where the walls are chipped enough to see the bricks sticking out and the pipes mocking the entirety of it. 

Among the wailing of the some kid, and the nagging of some irked off parents, there was no way to find a piece of tranquillity in that busy street. People would always walk by, without a thought to spare. Winter was hovering over them like a dark miasma, stinging wind crawling on to his chapped cheeks like an infestation and his poked up gloves didn’t offer much placation. He tried to warm his hands to generate some warmth, but how long that would go? Hint: not much.

For God’s sake, he could use someone else’s warmth, Doyoung reminded himself as he strode along the pavement, bumping shoulders with people he didn’t know. A sharp cry aroused from the corner of a turn, and there left a man, with a can, trembling in his hand asking for some food to help his sunken belly and protruding ribs. Doyoung took a pity, and dropped few shilling int the tin can and wished him good day. But all the man said to him return was, 

“Oh, may you find your soulmate. It is all someone wishes. You look like someone who needs it too.” 

The voice was hoarse, and it rattled Doyoung from within. He brushed it away, as he huddled inside his scarf, rolling his eyes in an afterthought. Soulmate. That was for the gipsies, the teens who were up to their nose with astrological shit written on newspaper or the people who studied the moon, as if the solar system had enough time to paint your destiny. People here looked for the one tirelessly, as Doyoung did all his life until he stopped a year ago. He deemed it had no use, because all the people seemed to hate him. They never cared for him, and the mark that stemmed from his finger to the tip was left lonely. He couldn’t scour each and everyone passing by him for a tiny mark on their finger that would determine him to find his one. He didn’t have enough patience.

  
  


The gate to his apartment cringed open, and he disposed the half-drunk coffee on the trash placed there. He rummaged through his mail-box, even though he knew there was nothing to expect. For a second there, he feigned to rummage between the old bill envelopes so that he didn’t look like he was desperate. As one of his neighbour, who was standing behind him, finished inspecting his own set of mail, lifted up on one of the elevators, he slammed the mailbox close and locked it. Being furloughed never had it perks, you know, Doyoung exhaled sharply as soft fog curled out of his lips. 

  
  


Doyoung climbed up the stairs, as the wood cracked under his heavy steps. The windows on each floor was broken, and it let all the cool year hog the silence and all Doyoung wanted to do, was gather in his apartment in a blanket and cry. He held on his knees as he ascended each steep step and it seemed the chilly air had gotten to his cramped joints, and he needed to squeeze in some stretches that evening. 

As he reached his floor, his apartment door was the very first one to appear right in front of his eyes. There were other two adjacent apartment doors, all shabby and ragged were on the opposite and it was almost always empty most of the year. So, he didn’t expect anyone to tap on his shoulders as he tried to slot the keys in. When he turned around, he shrieked bloody murder but the person in front of him, put his bandaged fingers on to his own lips, and he shushed him. Doyoung grabbed his own jaw with both of his hands, while the stranger stared at him from top to bottom.

The young man, looked like he was in his late 20s, dyed in ash hair and a beanie tilted on his head tight, letting out strays out dried locks out. His eyes were huge, like as if measuring to a size of a coin huge. It appeared googly and innocent, with straight long eyelashes and went along with a small, thin lips. Although, his lips were dried, and it seemed to be on a lengthy drought. He suited up to an old, yet warm looking jumper, with an 80s badge, ironed on to his right shoulder. 

The first thought that struck Doyoung’s head, was that guy might be a hobo off the street with knives jammed in his back pocket and would slit his throat any moment then. It spiralled off to then, thinking if the man wanted to rob him of anything, but he swore he had nothing on himself to steal. Doyoung was still staring at him for a good minute, before the young man spoke up in a dried-up tone, 

“I got locked out,” he said as he pointed at one of the two doors. Doyoung followed his bandaged up hand before the stranger retreated back his hand and plunged back in his jumper’s pocket. Doyoung inhaled through his nose, before letting his hand fall loosely to his sides. 

“Are you n-new?” Doyoung asked cautiously.

The man smiled, his lips tilting to one side, and he leaned back and forth with hands still in his pocket, 

“Yeah.” he said softly, “Very new, actually. I forgot my keys at my workplace. Didn’t hit me until I was at my doorstep and looked all over for my keys, but no avail.” A chuckle after, “I won’t be going there until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” So, what he want Doyoung to do about it?

“Can I spend a night at yours?” he asked, “Sharing is caring and honestly, I would sleep here but it is so fucking cold. I promise, I am not a kinky serial killer looking for places to sleep and kill.” 

Doyoung thought, what if he turned out to be a kinky serial killer with a bay face, and tried to kill him on his mattress. He seriously didn’t want to look forward to dying soon in a hands of a man he himself summoned in his house. That would be bad judgement on his part. So, he couldn’t really think of any other way to escape that catch-22, except maybe…

“You can call up the landlord, if you are still feeling wary…I don’t know, feeling doubtful if I live here.” He offered, holding out his hands out defensively. 

Doyoung considered, and excused himself quickly after struggling with his keys, in his apartment. He rung the landlord on his phone as he reclined back on the door, still breathing raggedly. He wondered if the man was still waiting outside. The other line instantly picked, thank God, and the landlord confirmed after he presented his dilemma.

Contemplating for some minutes, Doyoung opened up the door, and was met with the stranger resting his back against one of the pillars, craning his head up when he heard the door close. He took a dire sigh and nodded. 

“Thank you.” The stranger grinned, “I’m Taeyong. You?”

Taeyong, as he called himself, lent his bulgy, bandaged hand for a polite shake which Doyoung met warily. 

“Doyoung. Kim.”

“Okay. I’ll Google you quickly, so you don’t turn out to be a kinky serial killer.” Taeyong released Doyoung’s hand which, Doyoung counted, he held for a decent two minutes. It didn’t feel creepy somehow, but still there was that apprehensive feeling bubbling in his chest. Taeyong passed by his inside the apartment, taking in a long breath. 

“Funny.” Doyoung said dryly, folding his arms on his chest, and he leaned sideways on the door, and watched Taeyong loiter around the small living room before plopping on to the dusty, grey couch, “Remember, you owe me for letting you stay here. Don’t do anything twisted.”

“Okay.” Taeyong grinned playfully, and he sounded genuine, “I won’t.”

They dawdled, not together, of course, their own time in their own sanctuaries until dusk was starting to set. When Doyoung finally got out of his room, wearing a loosely fitted gingham shirt, with an undershirt underneath, he still saw Taeyong in the same position, with legs folded to his chest, and huddled on one side of the sofa. At least, Doyoung didn’t catch him jacking himself off or whatever his moans, that echoed to his room, implied. 

Doyoung bent on his haunches to scrutinize the fridge for any leftovers to make something out of, and prayed there would be anything edible so he didn’t have to go out in the blizzard of chilliness down there. He looked over his shoulder, at Taeyong swiping nonchalantly and lazily on his phone and deemed to ask him, if there was anything he would like to eat. That would give him an idea, and he would ride that wave to poof a food out of nothing. 

“You…Taeyong?” Taeyong didn’t budge so Doyoung raised his voice higher, “Hey, Taeyong, what would you like for dinner?”

“Does it make me…” Taeyong finally looked up from his phone to meet Doyoung’s eyes, but the latter averted it back to the empty fridge in awkward chagrin, “…very optimistic to ask for fried chicken?”

“Yes. It does. Also, it’s rude too.”

“Okay, then. I’ll settle for anything, actually.”

“How do toasts and a tiny bit of expired peanut butter sound?” Doyoung looked back hopefully and little did he know, Taeyong had long bid his phone good riddance and was staring at him.

“I love it.”

They were sitting at the petite table then, Taeyong on the opposite of Doyoung. It made the matters in hand intimidating, even though, buttering up some toasts seemed simple. Doyoung’s flickered towards Taeyong’s wrapped up hand, resting on the table as he struggled to knife up the crusts of the bread with his other hand. With a sigh, Doyoung stretched his hand and nudged Taeyong to leave the bread with him and he would prepare it.

“What happened to your hand by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah…last apartment I was staying at, kind of caught on fire because my stove was on the fritz but I was adamant on turning it on.” Taeyong replied albeit excitedly, “So, the result is this. My hand burned to the core, like the skin peeled off and all. I think bones are showing too, I don’t know.”

“We are eating, for God’s sake.” Disgusted, Doyoung handed him the butter spread bread and scrunched up his face before returning to his own. He took a bite of the burned corners, and it tasted utterly bitter so he noted to adjust the settings of the toaster the next day. 

“You asked.” 

The bread crumbs sprinkled off, pilling up heaps of dusts along with the prior ones. Doyoung thought he would have to clean the table too, so the insects don’t have to feast on it. The rest of the dinner thankfully went in silence, as both of them finished devouring their tiny serving of food and met up on the couch. Doyoung wanted to interrogate the young man, but he settled with switching and watched reruns of some sitcom on ABC. Taeyong joined too, phone forgotten inside his jumper pocket, beanie sprawled on the TV and legs crossed on the couch. He laughed at some of the jokes, although it failed to land. It seemed he would be easily cheered up on any cheesy, greasy humour you would offer him and it kind of presented him in a new, slightly childish, light.

After few episodes or two, Doyoung thought to call it a night and hit the hay. 

“I am going to bed. You can continue watching the TV, if you want.”

Taeyong, drowsy enough to nod off right then and there, bobbed his head softly. He took the remote to switch the TV off, as Doyoung went in his room to grab a spare pillow and a blanket. The night swelled with the chilly air whirring through the small gap of the window so Doyoung took it in himself to lock it tight and then threw the pillow and blanket on the sofa, which was directly under the said window.

Taeyong thanked him and sidled under the blanket, snoring just as he hit the pillow. Doyoung walked up to his room, across the apartment, and drifted off to his dreamland. 

However, it was not for long, that he had been poked awake, by the arm. Eyes blurred and hazy, Doyoung managed to zero in a dark figure standing in front of him, hunched and speaking in a hushed voice. It was inaudible, and Doyoung obviously was only half-conscious so he asked the figure to repeat.

“Um…I think your heater broke. So…I am feeling very cold there.” 

Doyoung only then figured that it was Taeyong, only without his jumper and in a long-sleeved wool pullover. He leaned on to his elbow and turned on the bedside lamp, and Taeyong’s face appeared clearer.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He voiced out his best, although he knew it sounded like a rat was stuck in garbage disposal.

“Can I sleep here with you?” Taeyong pleaded, “I will be on the very side and not be a nuisance.”

Doyoung didn’t have the strength to argue, so he let him. He just wanted to get some shut-eye. 

“You are already a nuisance but I think you can suit yourself to this…” He patted the other side, after taking away his pillow to his side, “…here.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll leave tomorrow without a trace.” 

Doyoung could feel the other side of the bed dip as he turned his back on Taeyong, resting his head on his palm. 

The last word that left his mouth, which he couldn’t take back as his eyes drooped to sleep, “Good.”

  
  


The next morning, Doyoung blankets had reached the half-part of his torso, as he twisted and turned, contemplating if he should urge himself awake. His eyes were heavy, so even if he wanted to, he couldn’t peel them open. The curtains were spread open wide which he believed he didn’t do. The light and soft of the winter morning, pierced through the partly broken windows and painted themselves on his face.

With a croaked out groan, he helped himself up against upholster and sighed as he leaned against it. He looked beside him, last night’s events a blur yet he could figure who was supposed to be there that morning, curled up on his bed. But, no. True to Taeyong’s words, he left without a trace but an indentation of his body against the sheets.

Doyoung didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted him there. So that his mornings would finally become something worthwhile, unique and not lonely.

\--- 

It was Christmas. Like, Valentines for religious people. Yet, Doyoung didn’t have an interest to honour either of them. Well, see, his love life was non-existent and he could do something better than feed anyone’s hunger for God and his entities. Yet, despite all of that, he didn’t any better for himself. In a word, he was bored. 

His mother had taken a pity on him and wired him some money to “indulge in something selfish”, in her words. Doyoung didn’t know what ‘selfish’ meant because all his life, all those days, he was living for himself. You know, how mothers are always cryptic, so most of the time they used to have a call, Doyoung couldn’t comprehend an inkling of what she said. 

Doyoung wandered off to the living room, and even though it was a week since he had seen Taeyong, he still pictured him sitting on the couch with his legs pulled up. He couldn’t find Taeyong even outside his apartment, and he doubted if he was living on the opposite lodge. The mail locker downstairs, had his name newly taped so that kind of kept his curiosity at the bay, and convinced him, maybe their timing wasn’t right and that Taeyong actually lived there... Maybe, Taeyong had a hard day’s work and rested until he had to go to work the next morning. The usual. Only if Doyoung could relate. 

Doyoung took the leisure of popping his cigarette pack for a stick, and cupped his hand in front of his mouth to light up it. He puffed a whiff of the pungent smell before heading out for more. It was a guilty pleasure indulging in cigarettes like that, and it was Christmas so there was no other times like that. As he sucked in two or more rounds of smoke, he was about to stand up and pad towards the dining table, but what caught his eyes was a familiar piece of garment peeking from the clawed legs. He bent down on his haunches and pinched it out. 

The beanie that Taeyong wore. There were strings unwoven from the sides, curling and strayed all directions. It was surprising he didn’t see it before but truth be told, he rarely sat on that couch. He rubbed his fingers over the tattered fabric, feeling the rough surface against his skin and he didn’t why, but he took the beanie to his nose and it smelled off the bitter smell of coffee.

Doyoung averted his eyes from and directed himself towards the closed door of his apartment. It was Christmas and Taeyong must be home. He did buy too much groceries for one person that morning but would it be wrong to call him up for dinner, even if he barely knew him and he might have stayed for a night at his house, on his bed, right beside him? Not really, Doyoung decided. He could use some company that night.

He threw in some blue jacket, and black jeans for good measure. His hair remained feral, resembling to that of a bed hair but a worse version of it. Without much thought, he dished the beanie inside his jacket and inhaled sharply. Looking at the mirror at his pitiful reflection, he rehearsed what to say, gathered his grit and slapped himself not to blab something idiotic.

“This is scarier than I imagined,” Doyoung said to himself, although it wasn’t really lessening the fear than increasing it. The door was right in front of him, the cheap material of wood scratched and haunted with marks of god’s knows what and the calling bell socket remained unused, untouched and infested with mould. Doyoung knew better and knocked once, although softly with his knuckles. He took a step back, waited for a minute but there was no answer. 

With a sigh, he crept close and knocked again. Still, there was no answer. Was Taeyong not home? But it was Christmas, and for sure there was pending jobs left outside except maybe, run a bakery. Doyoung hummed under his breath, eyebrows knitting close as he thought to knock again. Repetitively, that time, he reminded himself.

If Taeyong wasn’t there, then he wasn’t. It would be just another listless Christmas for Doyoung, anyway.

One knock goes unheard. Another, and another and one more until the door is pulled open with force, letting out an air to surf all Doyoung’s hair behind. He was caught off-guard, lips ajar with his eyes blown wide. 

Taeyong was there, towel wrapped around his waist and another draped over his shoulder. His hair was dripping with water, so Doyoung could only imagine that he was in the shower, explaining his late coming to the door. Doyoung bit his lips, suddenly flustered because he wasn’t expecting to be presented with a half-naked man at the door. 

“So, you were impatiently knocking my door because…?” Taeyong walked close, slowly opening the door wide enough. Doyoung felt intimidated as he took a step back.

He cleared his throat and said, “First off, Hi.”

“Hello. Merry Christmas.” Taeyong has his hands folded on his torso, with a loop-sided smile hanging off on his cheeks.

“Same to you.” Doyoung said with a pause, unable to take his eyes of how Taeyong’s bare chest heaved up and down as he breathed, “You mind throwing some clothes on? You must be cold.”

“Just make it quick.”

“Okay, um…remember how I told you that if I let you stay, you have to owe me?”

Taeyong looked confused for a second, “You want me to pay you? I…you should have informed me.”

“No. Not that. Not in terms of cash anyway.” Doyoung shook his head before looking up to meet Taeyong’s eye, “Well, since its Christmas, I bought a little too much from the grocery. I’m making casserole and stuff, and I thought if you wanted to come. Friends, neighbour and all.” 

A smile appeared on Taeyong’s flushed face, as he mumbled, “Why not? I don’t have anything to do. You make a mean casserole?”

“Sure.” 

Doyoung turned around, deeming the conversation was over and he should hurry to grocery to fetch some more ingredients, because he didn’t expect to make casserole any time soon. All he wanted to do was invite Taeyong to dinner and think about the menu later on, but he couldn’t keep his running mouth shut. In a way, he wanted to lure him. But before he could turn the knob to his apartment, Taeyong beckoned him again, calling out his name softly. Doyoung swore no one ever called him like that, with so much…cautiousness.

Doyoung didn’t face him as he gave Taeyong a ‘yes?’ to continue.

“When you say…” friends”, “neighbour”…whatever, which category do I belong to?”

“None, for now. We shall see after dinner.”

It wasn’t even 7, when he saw Taeyong patiently waiting in front of his house, legs placed behind him like a flamingo while he leaned on the wall, lax and comfortable. He had warmed himself in a red knit, which cartoon white reindeer popped up from his sleeves. The beanie that he wore loosely on his head, had strings with red pom-pom like bubbles at the end of it. He was swiping through his phone with his free hand while the bandaged one stayed wrapped around his body. Jeans cuffed on his ankles and his hair seemed of a new hue, even though Doyoung couldn’t see it properly.

“Hi,” Doyoung called out and Taeyong looked up from his phone with a grin. He quickly jammed his phone in his pocket and approached Doyoung’s door. 

“Thought you have bailed.” Taeyong teased, his eyebrows cocking up and down. Only then he noticed, how Doyoung was embracing his grocery bag against his chest.

“I can’t bail on my own dinner.”

“You bought grocery?”

“I did. You know, Christmas preparations and then there was this huge discount on carrots, so I got heaps. You like carrots?”

“I eat them but not necessarily like them.” Taeyong stretched his hands and nudged Doyoung to give him a bag. Doyoung happily lend him one. Taeyong continued to say, “You never came across as a discounts guy.”

“I absolutely come across as a discounts guy. You are being nice.”

Doyoung slotted his key and opened the door to his apartment, as Taeyong followed suit and closed the door behind him. They set the bags on the dining table, and then Taeyong returned back to the couch, and sat there comfortably, carrying his legs up along with him. Doyoung could feel his grin grate through him as he tried to prepare for dinner. He glanced over his shoulder and sighed before reverting back to the knife board.

“Don’t stare at me like that.”

“You want me to help you? I’m bored.”

“Okay, if that stops you for staring at me like you are plotting to kill me or something, then you are welcome to.”

Taeyong padded to his side, taking the knife in his hand and signalled Doyoung to turn on the stoves, “It’s going to be fun.”

The dinner was ready, with casserole being the titular dish of the occasion while there were common sides, like no-oven sponge cakes and market bought whipped cream. They sat in the order they sat the first night they met, and Doyoung realized they it was their second dinner to date, however it felt a fresh, first, blind date. Taeyong was kind enough to pour him some of the cheap wine he got from the store, for 10 dollars while Doyoung sliced up the casserole and served two pieces each, from the white bowl. The frosty wooden floors, tingled Doyoung’s socked leg as goosebumps lined his legs. He couldn’t wait to dig in, the cozy steam from the casserole lured him in with the tangy smell of the cooked veggies.

“Wait.” Taeyong blurted, the second Doyoung was about to spoon a bite.

“Are we saying grace? Sorry, I’m not religious.”

“No. I just wanted to…toast with this cheap wine we got. It’s my first Christmas in a long while with someone and I wanted to remember it, you know, start it meaningfully.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Doyoung apologized sheepishly before wrapping his hands around his cold wine glass and lifted it carefully. Taeyong imitated him and bought his glass closer. Doyoung didn’t know what came over him, but as they both looked at each other, he could feel relief washing over him. The homely cosiness accompanied the thankful fact that even if it was someone he barely knew, he felt like he was back home.

“Merry Christmas, Doyoung. Kim.”

“Merry Christmas, Taeyong…I don’t know your last name.”

“Lee.”

“Taeyong Lee. Merry Christmas.”

The clink of glasses, small escapes of chuckles and the faint mumble of Christmas carols from outside the light glasses windows, how it shuttered when the freezing wind would graze by it, the reruns of Charlie Specials blasted from the TV and Taeyong’s wholehearted guffaws filled in, place by place, moment to moment, in the gaps of Doyoung withered insides, as he laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. They washed the dishes together, and it stayed piled up, upside down beside the sink as a reminder of the night. Taeyong didn’t leave his beanie behind that day, but he didn’t ask for the old one either. Perhaps, he was unaware of leaving it by Doyoung’s home. 

Doyoung turned to the left, unable to summon an inch of sleep. He wasn’t even tired yet. The question came by his head anyway, “Why did Taeyong have to go?” The scenarios of Taeyong cooking by him, turning on the TV, sitting like some old man in an adult nursery, often itching his wrapped up hands subtly while a grimace would replace his face as he did so floated back in his mind like an unforgettable, negative film. He decided after some contemplation, he wanted to see how Taeyong’s hand looked like. He raised his own one, and examined it for a dark mark steaming from the corner of his palm and what-ifs painted the inside of his eyelids as he fell asleep.

It was New Years, and of course, Taeyong would be home. Right? Probably. He knocked his hand once and then twice, but he could hear the flutters of sandals on the other side of the door and it made him smile. 

“Do you purposely look for holidays to see if I am home?”

Taeyong’s apartment interior was the same, but there was the evident lack of any furniture, TV but just a small bean couch that stood in the middle of nowhere. Doyoung shifted on the awkward seat as he looked up to see Taeyong standing. 

“I don’t know what job you do.” Doyoung gathered his legs and circled his arms around it. 

“I work for a bakery. They permitted a week off, for the holidays. What about you?” Taeyong held his waist, as he judged him down. His light white tee hung off his shoulders, letting a peek of his bare body underneath. Doyoung really couldn’t understand how Taeyong didn’t feel cold in that frigid weather and partly working heater.

“Well, I am kind of out of work. I was furloughed but I doubt my old workplace would take me back. It’s the winter season so I get it, not being able to find work that is.”

“You can come and work with me. I believe there is a spot to fill, so you can get on it. I can talk to my…” Taeyong sat down on his haunches, “…manager if you want. You are good at cooking, I mean from what I saw on Christmas, so I think you can do a good job.”

“You sure?”

“100%”

Doyoung grinned from ear to ear, “Well, that is a relief. Do tell me when you will be starting on the job so I can tag along.”

“Will do.” Taeyong sighed as he stretched his legs and sprawled with his legs wide open on the floor, “Hey, can you-I mean only if you want- can you stay for tonight just until the fireworks?” Taeyong then perched forward and pulled his legs up to his chest, “I am pretty alone and lonely tonight and I don’t want to let New Year go by like that. You’d make a great company, just saying.”

“Sure. You don’t have to feed me compliments to make me stay.” Doyoung shrugged. Unable to make eye-contact with Taeyong, who stared at him unfazed,. he studied his own fumbling fingers. It made him skittish, to be in such close proximity, with someone he spent the past days thinking of. 

Taeyong mouthed a ‘thank you’ and resorted to silence for the next couple of minutes. Until, Doyoung couldn’t tolerate the awkwardness anymore, he asked Taeyong politely to show him around the house.

“What is there to show in a 1LDK? Plus, everything is within our sight here.”

Doyoung nodded understandably, before his eyes wandered off to the close door, that marked Taeyong’s own turf: his bedroom. See, Doyoung wasn’t interested in pocking around in someone else’s private sanctuary, but he guessed the boredom got to him. He was more than eager to see what Taeyong kept on the other side of the door. Were there a worn-out, shabby, hospital cot like Doyoung’s there or a simple, bare mattress that was surprisingly enough for him? 

“You want to see my bedroom?” Taeyong laughed nervously, standing up immediately. Doyoung looked away, embarrassed that he had been caught red-handed, “So much for being subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Doyoung defended, although he indeed was and prayed that he won’t get caught. His voice tuned down to a whisper, “You already saw mine so what’s wrong if I want to see yours? There is nothing else to do.”

“It’s as if you are telling me to go down on you because yeah, we are bored.”

“Way to connect the dots but I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

Taeyong exhaled sharply through his nose, before adding an empty chuckle. Doyoung saw a hand come into his view and when he looked up, it was Taeyong smiling widely at him. ‘I was kidding’ he said, almost inaudibly as if it would go missing in the noise of the construction outside and buzz of cheers. It was early morning, but it seemed people were equally elated about the New Years, as Doyoung unexpectedly was. Doyoung brushed away the helping, and stood up on his own.

“I was kidding.” Taeyong said it out loud, as if to ebb away Doyoung’s unreasonable dismay.

“I don’t take jokes very well, Taeyong.”

“Okay. Let’s just go to my room.”

Doyoung hummed, padding across the apartment to where Taeyong’s bedroom was closed off. Taeyong followed suit, before crossing over Doyoung’s shoulder to twist the bedroom open. What was unravelled was underwhelming than Doyoung expected. But to be frank, Doyoung didn’t know what he was expecting. There was a petite bed jammed to one corner of the room, with a few flower tops resting on the window sill, the leaves hanging about and touched the walls below. When he tried to catch a glimpse of Taeyong standing beside him, too close to his side for comfort, Taeyong had that inexplicable, fond yet proud look dawned on his face as he studied his own plants. Doyoung couldn’t understand what the hype was about plants, all they do was to be another riddling responsibility

“These are my kids.” Taeyong approached the line of plants in front, as the mild sun ray from outside cast a whitish shadow on his face, He bent on his haunches and let his finger caress the leaves, “I named them too. Fera…” he pointed to the climbers, and then moved to a pot of small cactus, “…Groots. They keep me company when I’m alone.” Doyoung noticed the soft smile curved on to his face, as if he could go on and on, rambling about them. 

“Oh. Cool.”

“You don’t like plants, do you?”

‘Well…” Doyoung situated himself on the edge of the bed as he craned his neck to look at Taeyong, with a face of chagrin, ‘They are too much of an obligation. I mean, if I don’t water them for one day, they die so what’s the point?”

“I don’t want to convince you otherwise, but once you have them, you’ll feel like they are the best friends you’ll never have. Based on that, you’ll try to protect them as much as you can. Watering them won’t feel like a huge commitment.”

Doyoung bobbed his head and turned around. He didn’t have anything to retort to that.

“Hey, if you are bored…you want to go for a walk around the block? I think the Christmas decorations are still around…” Taeyong offered as he walked towards him, to take a seat on the other side of the bed. 

Doyoung turned back to face him, and lifted up the corner of his lips, “I would like that.”

Taeyong and Doyoung both huddled in their layers of knits, coats and scarves and trudged down the broken pavement, lips quivering as they did so. The cold pricked their skin, akin to the sting of a small knife’s graze as the torn gloves didn’t do enough to keep hem away from frostbite. Their teeth clattered against each other, and Doyoung contemplated if it was a decent decision at all to come out like that.

‘You-wait…” Taeyong let out a huff of exhaustion as fog curled out from his lips “-Let’s just get coffee somewhere, yeah?”

Doyoung fervently shook his head, sighing continuously. His hands rubbed his arms up and down, to ease away the cold that seem to peek in through, although, that gesture never worked. But, it was better than nothing, so he settled with that. The roads were covered in piles of white fluff, and it didn’t placate the fact it was fucking cold there. There were less to no people on the streets, except some cafes who managed to stay open despite the lack of proper crowd. 

“You want to go back home?”

Doyoung shook his head again, unable to form words because it felt like his lips carried a tonne. The bows of his lisp were stitched shut, seamless. Doyoung felt his arms tugged close to Taeyong, as the latter swiftly curled in his own arms around his. The warmth of Taeyong’s closeness slowly echoed through his body, and he didn’t let out a whimper of discomfort or tore his arms away. He let it be until they strolled in the direction of a cafe. 

“One Hot Chocolate and…” Taeyong glanced at Doyoung, “What will you have?”

Doyoung shrugged. 

“He’ll have the same.” Taeyong smiled at the barista while the barista remained stoic and typed in the order. She was probably sick of working on the holidays, but like the rest of the people who had to fend for themselves, she didn’t have a choice

“Here or take-out?”

“Take-out,” Doyoung spoke too son for Taeyong for even to say something. Taeyong just gesticulated for the barista to take in Doyoung’s preference and stepped back to wait in one of the vinyl booths against the wide window. Doyoung trailed behind him, and sat on the opposite of him and reclined back along the hard seat.

“Sorry…” Doyoung mumbled gently, “…I know you wanted to take a walk but it’s too cold. We’ll be better at home where there’s proper heating, a bed and food. We can look outside of my balcony, if you want.”

The Christmas carols resounded among the walls of the cafe, ringing as a soft mumble in Doyoung’s ears. Jingle Bells, repeated itself for a second time as Taeyong shook his head and laughed lightly.His hands were plunged into the pockets of his jumpers, the once he wore when he first stood in front of his door and asked for a place to stay. Doyoung couldn’t realize when they had become so casual, as if they had known each other for a long while. The barista hollered for Taeyong and nudged the packaged hot chocolate on the counter. Taeyong quickly jogged up to her, as he took the order in his hands and paid for the drinks. 

“You know,” Doyoung took a sip of the chocolate and they descended down the hill, towards their apartment which was only a block away, “I had this junkie as a neighbour once approximately a year ago. She had it pretty bad for herself but then again-you know how they mostly shake and shiver-she used to come to me and look for salt. Or sugar. She didn’t have the money on her to buy the necessities she wanted because she spent that money on drugs. I used to help her out until I found out she has been arrested. Guess why.”

Taeyong lips curved a bit, noticing how the hot chocolate warmed Doyoung up for him to babble like that. So he indulged in his storytime, even though he could care less.”

“Police found out that possessed drugs or something.”

“No.” Doyoung shrugged, “I mean, I’ll give you that but it was for a wholly another reason.”

“Come on man, enough suspense.”

“She killed someone.” Doyoung heaved, as the fog hovered around the air for a bit before dissipating away, “A neighbour of ours to be exact. The floor immediately above ours, a salesman used to live. She killed him, cold-blooded.”

“Oh.”

“Could have been me, you know. I would be the one, screaming bloody murder and no one would hear me. “ Doyoung said, the hot chocolate was forgotten by his side, “It’s sick but I am killing myself every night just thinking what if it was me?”

“But it wasn’t you, was it?”

“Right. I should have stopped thinking about it but I don’t have anything else to think about it.”

\--- 

Taeyong saw Doyoung heading towards his own apartment and before Doyoung could open the front door, Taeyong beckoned him. Doyoung looked back, and sighed gravelly,

“I think I want to be alone for tonight. Sorry if I disappointed you.” 

Doyoung keyed his door open, but Taeyong halted him before he could move on. 

“Hey, it’s only a few hours to midnight and after that, you can leave. I promise I won’t hold you back.”

“Okay.” Doyoung hummed, before locking his doors again.

\--- 

Doyoung tipped his head back, as he laughed out loud, as he covered his gaped mouth with the back of his palm. Since, it was still a long while to midnight (contrary to Taeyong’s few hours), they had to pass time by at least doing anything. They couldn’t fuck so they thought to spend time by watching a hilarious compilation of talking animals on Taeyong’s phone. They laid on the floor side by side, Taeyong’s mattress beneath as the skies darkened outside the closed windows. 

When they would end up in one of those silent staredowns which usually ended up in kiss scenes in movies, they would in turn laugh it off. Or at least Taeyong would. Taeyong would pester Doyoung to watch another one-hour compilation or a free movie on YouTube, to clear away the awkwardness that would sprout out of nowhere. They had nothing to talk about; nothing to discuss but bask in each other’s company until the time felt like it was enough.

“Hey,” Taeyong clicked the phone off once the 1 hour-long YouTube was over, “You want something to eat?”

“Do you even have anything in your fridge?” Doyoung plopped back on the couch, fingers carding through the tuft of hair. He played with the edges of his bangs, and could see Taeyong in between the curtain of his strands.

“Well, I do have a loaf of bread and orange juice, which goes without saying, is packed with preservatives. But if that interests you…”

“Hmm..” Doyoung feigned to mull on the limited choices and gave in with a sigh, “You know what, make me anything. It’s only-”

“5 hours till midnight. We only ate a sandwich for lunch, I know.” Taeyong laughed, “and that’s on me. I’m not a good hosts like the ones of those bigwig dinner parties or bourgeois suburb ones that can afford to hold huge buffets without a care.”

“But, I think I like it that way. Maybe, I have grown fond of bug-infested mattresses and cheap breads.” Doyoung sat straight on the couch and stretched his numb limbs over his head, “Or maybe, I have grown used to someone with a bandaged hand, I don’t know.”

Taeyong didn’t say anything in response to that. It was sly attempt of Doyoung’s to engage and mingle in those flirtatious banters that came up on TV, and yes, maybe he took a few notes of it. He didn't know if it would work until he would put up to action. 

“Help me out.” Taeyong resounded after a few minutes, while he bent down in front of the small refrigerator, gauging for the pack of bread. One he found it, he gave out a holler of rejoice and took out the 1L bottle of orange juice as well. Doyoung joined him from behind, looking over his shoulder as Taeyong shred the crusts off carefully. Doyoung didn’t have anything to help out in, so he watched Taeyong do all the heavy lifting while he took sips of the orange juice he served himself. 

“Hmm.” Doyoung whimpered, pulling in the attention of Taeyong, who turned around with a lopsided smile.

“You have anything to say?”

“I thought, maybe…” Doyoung shrugged, frowning his lips, “I don’t know, since it’s the New Years celebration and we are approaching a brand start for many of us…can’t we do something more? Like, I can grab some cheap champagne from my apartment if you would like.”

“That sounds great. If you want to get buzzed and all, and cheer to the new beginning, you do you.” Taeyong smiled and took his share of range juice and nudged it to the empty air, “I am okay with my orange juice.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Orange juice is okay.”

“Just go and get yours. Save a glass or two for me.”

“Okay.”

When Doyoung shut the door behind him, he could feel his heart racing to his mouth. It was awful, how palatable he was feeling and how his hands were perspiring in sheer nervousness. Okay, he might a teeny tiny crush on Taeyong and he knew how to hid it well. But what was worse, was how akin to a high-school kid he was feeling like. All the scenes from the prior morning came surging in his head like nausea and Taeyong’s thin smile or the limp way he walked through the pavements, the wrapped bandage on his hand or how the beanie was pulled too far on his forehead that it covered his eyebrows, it was too much for him. It was pathetic how simple things like that inflicted so much more in him. Also, he never felt out of place with Taeyong. There was that gnawing feeling in him, he was not supposed to be with anyone or those days except him. 

It felt right. Taeyong felt right in all the happenings that went wrong.

Perhaps, he liked Taeyong because he was an animal man. 

“Okay. Fine. One champagne, countdown and then I’m out.” Doyoung placated himself. He rushed towards the couch, picked the stray scarf that was laid sprawled on the it and grabbed the gloves with too many holes in it, alongside. He opened the fridge, took the untouched champagne (he didn’t have any reason to get drunk until then). He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. It was going to be fine, he convinced himself, get yourself together. You are not whipped for that animal man.

But, no matter how much he told himself, the doors swung open and Taeyong was there in all his warm glory, he was obviously, without doubt, whipped for that animal man.

“Hi.” Taeyong waved, his hands didn’t have the bandage covering it anymore. It was more like Taeyong was flaunting his bare, creased skin. Doyoung darted his eyes on the hand and back to Taeyong’s face as he blurted, 

“I’m whipped.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Doyoung looked away. He could hear Taeyong shuffling close to him before standing still only inches away. He could Taeyong sigh, worry evident on the deep and grave breath.

“I shouldn’t ask you this but do you mind applying the medicine on my burns?” Taeyong grumbled out, talking with cautiousness, “It’s not that ugly but I understand if you choose not to.”

“No. It’s fine.”

Taeyong and Doyoung settled on the couch, with Taeyong’s hand right on his lap. The wounds were not that bad, considering the crimson and slightly pink scalds that painted itself on the dips of his fingers and scratched on his knuckles. Taeyong lent him a Q-tip with the medicine swabbed on top, and asked him to just apply it lightly on the affected part. 

“Don’t smack or swipe or try to paint a cake here. Just dab.” Taeyong assured, as he pointed to the new unwrapped piece of bandage on the other side of the couch, “I can do the last bit okay.”

“Okay.”

Doyoung carefully swirled the bud on top of the bruised skin, and stopped once he heard Taeyong writhing because it stung. He drew in air through his teeth, and pressed his weight on Doyoung’s sides, whimpering softly under his breath. His eyes were curtained shut, scared shit-less and Doyoung wondered how he was able to do it by himself before that day.

“You know, I was supposed to go to the hospital today for the make-up, and they would give me a new dressing, but I thought, Doyoung can do it for me. I wanted to stay back so that I don’t miss it.”

“The New Years…” The Q-tip met Taeyong’s skin again and Taeyong growled loudly, “…it’s like hours away. Why didn’t you go?”

“I wanted to spend it with you. Believe it not, I like you and I don’t want to leave you alone even though I promised you, I will be here.”

“Thanks.” Doyoung tightened his lips, ignoring the ‘I like you’ part, “I’m not a nurse but I’ll try to do better. How long did you have the burns?”

“It’s been a bit more than 3 weeks. I moved here like the first of December.”

“I moved here at the start of this year. Times goes slow in this place. But outside, in the Big Apple, you will catch me slipping.” Doyoung curled his hand underneath Taeyong’s fingers and pulled it up, and he wanted to kiss it so bad. The Q-tip prompted itself over the sides where the burns had devastated half of the palm’s heels and reached to the tip of his thumb, “How did you escape from the fire?”

“The fire wasn’t that scary as it shows on movies. It was hot, obviously and I couldn’t breath.”

“That seems scary.” Doyoung tapped Taeyong to move closer and he did, leading his hand to hoist up to Doyoung’s chest. He could see clearer, parts of dried up scab peeled itself from the back of his palm. Doyoung couldn’t help but rub his fingers along Taeyong’s wrist, in sort of condolences because it pained from the insides. 

“Anyway, I hopped off the fire escape and met insurance the next day. I was able to compensate enough money to move and get me going for a month. Everything burned to ashes in that fire but good thing I didn’t own anything expensive or dear to cry over.”

Doyoung kept holding on to his hands, that didn’t have any intention to let it go. It was somewhat obvious that Taeyong must have felt comfortable keeping his hands burrowed in Doyoung’s, because he didn’t pull it back. 

“Are you like those people who make New Year’s Resolutions only to fail it?” Taeyong asked, as he tried to tug his hand away to no avail. Doyoung kept it tight, in his strong grip and wished that somehow, the touch would relay his message to the other. However, Taeyong kept a blank mask on and waited for his answer.

“Not really. I do keep the end of my bargains. You know, lose weight, exercise more and maybe earn some money to keep your life going. Stuff like that. The money thing didn’t work out, though.” Doyoung spelt out, “What about you?”

“Not sure. I don’t not have any promises to make to start with.”

You know what, Doyoung was going to throw it just out there. He couldn’t keep it in, how much he tried. Not with Taeyong’s hands right on his life.

“I’m going to give you a thinker, okay? It depends on you, really, whether you want to do this or not.”

Taeyong stared back at him as Doyoung stopped on his trail of words. He morphed his face into a spaghetti of confusion and intrigue. Taeyong cleared his throat as to nudge him on.

“For your New year resolutions, would you consider having one this year?”

“What is it?”

“Kiss me. On the first day.”

**11:30 PM**

“Now that you’ve said you like me…” Taeyong dug into his share of Chinese takeout, legs folded over the couch as he ate, “…considering that a kiss means that you like me. It kind of makes things awkward since I can’t bend you in half and fuck you for now.”

“We are eating. Plus, liking you doesn’t mean you’ve to fuck me. I just want to kiss you.” Doyoung licked the residue of MSG that stuck on his lips, as it gave his cavern a tang of spiciness. 

“Okay. Kissing it is.” Taeyong maintained a beat of silence before chiming, “What made you like me?”

“I don’t know. You have this je ne sais qoui thing going on,” Doyoung circled his chopsticks around Taeyong’s face from afar, “I can’t really pinpoint.”

“Okay, I’m satisfied with that ambiguous answer.” Taeyong looked back on to his treated hand, and the wrapped up clean bandage that Doyoung helped put back on, “Thank you for treating my hand. I must say, you did a good job.”

Doyoung nodded. Outside, there were muffled cheers and bass of music riding through the small peep of the window. People were elated, some gathered in throngs outside their apartments, intending to join the jammed march of civilians in Time Square, in the menacing cold of December. When Doyoung glanced at the closed windows, the dew trickling down the glass, he felt excited too.

Taeyong discarded the leftovers and the cardboard boxes in the trash and beckoned Doyoung to meet him at the crammed up balcony he had just beside the window. It was usually closed he said, and it was the only way you could climb through the fire escape stairs. It was shivering outside, evident by the tears that stuck on to his pasty cheeks and numb lips. Taeyong dug deeper in his scarf and waited for the petty 5 minutes to trudge by.

Only a few minutes until Doyoung could bid “Good riddance” to that awful, insufferable year.

“You ready to be kissed, Cinderella?” Taeyong jumped in his position, quivering grin taking place on his visage.

“Oh yeah…”Doyoung exhaled a smoke, “More than.”

It was 1 minute to the same, mere count of days. Doyoung looked past his shoulder, and could see Taeyong shuffling in his hindsight. He wanted to stay beside him, for hours to come. Yes, maybe he wanted to fucked on the first day of the new year. But he couldn’t always say he wanted, right? At the end of the day, they were strangers, who happened to live opposite of each other in a rotten building. 

“Oh fuck, it’s so cold.” Taeyong whimpered, plunging his hands in his jumper.

“Saying it doesn’t make it any better, does it?”

They could hear echoes of the countdown, starting from 10. 9…they hollered loudly and Taeyong inched closer to him. 8…they cried louder and the cheers and laughter rippled through the neighbourhood. 7…Taeyong held out his hand to tug him close so that Doyoung could feel his chilly breath on him. 6…Doyoung could feel tear uncontrollably flowing down his cheekbones and Taeyong rubbed them off with his naked fingers. 

5

“You worked hard.”

4

“Thank you.”

3

“Can I kiss you?

A beat passes by, Taeyong’s hands paused on his cheeks, his thumb brushing against his skin. Doyoung, for the first time in a long while, didn't feel the need to check for soulmate marks on his finger or wrist. It was for the fairytales and those couldn’t survive in real life, even if Doyoung wanted it to. He slowly closed his eyes and puckered his lips. Soulmates could go to hell for all he cared, it was enough knowing Taeyong was there, tied at the fucking wrist or not.

2

Lips were centimetres away.

1!

Happy New Year!

The screeches tuned down in his ears, he couldn’t hear anything, not the fireworks or the thrumming of utensils others came out from their fire escapes to do. Taeyong sealed his lips against Doyoung’s, moving it slowly and softly until Doyoung gave in, into his hold. Doyoung felt tingly all over, as if time had stopped for him, as he could read the prints of Taeyong all over him. The cold came to their tangled feet, while Doyoung’s hands wrapped itself around Taeyong’ waist, pulling him close to his chest. Doyoung opened his mouth and Taeyong dived in, sucking on his lower lips. 

A few chaste kisses before Taeyong pulled away, catching for breath, “Okay. I really wanted to kiss you so don’t blame me.”

Doyoung angled his face down, resting his lips on the crook of Taeyong shoulder, taking the reek of the jumper in.

“You know why?” Taeyong asked, and Doyoung shook his head, with his hands coiled around Taeyong tight. Taeyong wrapped his arms around him and swung him side to side.

“You are my soulmate.” Taeyong whispered, “I saw the mark on your hand the first day I came to your house, while you were preparing the dinner. I didn’t want to say anything so I let the universe do its thing. And it did. You are here.”

“What do you mean?” Doyoung picked his head up from his shoulder and took a step back, leaving his hands laze by his side. His face was morphed into a frown, taken off-guard, “How come I never saw your mark?”

“It was burned off.” Taeyong showed off his wrapped up hand, in the inches of gauze. Doyoung could have never noticed even if he wanted to, “I’m sorry. I really wanted to tell you but…”

“It’s okay.” Doyoung smiled, with a sigh, “I didn’t mind. Now…since it’s the New Years and we ought to celebrate whatever we have here, soulmate and all the ridiculous rigmarole, you can kiss me again. I really want that.”

“Maybe, we can take that to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, I would like that.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
